Life's Little Curveballs
by Ghostwriter Redux
Summary: Harper Hayes had been around the block enough times to know that things rarely go as planned. Nevertheless, even she's surprised when she ends up in Middle Earth after her premature demise, discovers the drawbacks of being 'graced' with an elvish body, and tries desperately to change her fate after finding out Elrond has foreseen her death...Again...Pairing: Glorfindel/OC. AU.
1. Prelude

Prelude

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A/N: I love Lord of the Rings. It's one of my favorite series and I've written such a ridiculously large amount of fanfiction for it over the years. Unfortunately, going back over it all I've realized how incredibly MS most of my characters were and it's no surprise they were all Legomances. So for a change of pace, I wanted to write about a character we rarely see in fanfiction, i.e. Glorfindel! *Fanfare plays*. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this first installment of 'Life's Little Curveballs' and I'm sorry for the unnecessarily long A/N *sheepish grin*.

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is owned by Tolkien, Peter Jackson owns the Movie-Verse. I only own my OC and make no money writing this.

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Warning: Chapter contains violence and character death, may be a trigger for some so read at your own risk.

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"-you don't know what it's like to be like me~! To be hurt, to be lost, to be left out in the dark. To be kicked when you're down, to feel like you've been pushed around-," Harper sang along happily and horrendously off-key to the music blaring through the speakers of her Jeep, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel to keep the beat; "-to be on the edge of breaking down and no one's there to save you. No, you don't know wh-wha-wha-wha-what it's l-l-l-ike-ike-like-like. W-w-w-w-welcome t-t-to-to-to my life-ife-ife-ife-."

The brunette jammed her thumb into the eject button, pulling her CD free and eyeing the back of it sourly, lightly rubbing it against her thigh before tucking into the visor over her head as she pulled into the parking lot of 'Gems Among Rocks'. It was a small antique shop in Kimmswick, Missouri and her current place of employment.

Rolling to a stop she shifted her Jeep in park and grabbed her backpack from the passenger's seat. She had a ridiculously large amount of homework to complete for her classes the next morning and was planning on finishing the vast majority of it during work. It was a Wednesday evening, mid-February and most tourist traffic was seen on the weekends so Harper knew they were in for a slow night.

At least that had been the plan until the owner, a sprightly if not occasionally crotchety woman in her 80's named Lucille, informed her she would be cataloguing a new shipment of wares the shop had just received earlier that afternoon.

"But that'll take forever-," Harper whined, dropping down on the stool behind the counter and resting her forehead on the cool surface.

"Well, I suppose you best get started then, yes?" Harper raised her head, the corners of her lips turning upwards in a small smile.

"Guess so," she agreed, grabbing the thick binder from beneath the counter. She rifled through her backpack for a pen, eventually coming across one that would write after several moments.

"How's school going, Harp?" Lucille asked as they wove their way through the shelves towards the back stock room.

"It's going pretty well. I only have two classes left to finish for my Associates Degree and then I can get my PTA certification."

"PTA?" She nodded, eyeing the crates before her dourly before turning her attention to her employer.

"Physical therapy assistant," she clarified, setting the binder down and cracking her knuckles.

"I see," Harper didn't miss the sadness in Lucille's voice and looked questioningly over her shoulder. Lucille and her husband had owned the store since they were her age, in their early 20's, and when he passed away from COPD nineteen years ago she had been managing it on her own. They had a few grandchildren but they all lived so far away and rarely came in to visit. It was then Harper understood why she sounded so dejected and felt a pang of guilt.

When she became a certified physical therapy assistant she could get a higher-paying job at St. Joseph Hospital and the curator there said they would provide tuition assistance towards her getting her Bachelor's Degree in physical therapy. That meant that she would no longer work at Gems and Lucille would have to hire someone else which she loathed to do. Harper had been working there legally since she was fifteen and had been helping out there ever since she was a kid.

She loved the old shop, everything had a story to go with it and the store housed a few precious antiques such as two Rembrandt's and even a painting by Gustav Klimt. For a time she had even thought of changing her major to that of a history major but eventually settled on the medical profession. Seeing the forlorn look on Lucille's face made her question her decision to do so.

Forcing a smile to her lips she flipped the binder open, grabbed the crowbar from its peg on the wall and headed for the largest crate in front of them.

* * *

Three hours passed and the pair had finally whittled the stack of crates and cartons down to one rather than the starting twenty. Among the newest wares were a few vases, a golden Buddha statue, two ornate katana from Japan which Lucille immediately took out of Harper's reach (much to the younger woman's dismay), a couple of lamps, and a beautiful hand-woven tapestry from Poland. The last container held smaller wares such as jewelry and knickknacks.

"Aw, darn it," Harper glanced upwards, glasses sliding down her nose as she did so. Pushing them back up irately she tilted her head in inquisition when Lucille stood, grabbing her cane from where it sat propped against the desk.

"What's up?" She asked, running her hands back through her hair and refastening the shoulder-length strands in a ponytail, brushing the dust from her hands onto the thighs of her jeans absentmindedly.

"The Lady's Guild is meeting tonight. I told Amanda I would be there," Lucille grumbled, heading back towards the front of the store. Harper stood to follow suit, nearly toppling over as she tried to regain the feeling in her legs and settled for hobbling after her employer.

"You're going to quilt with them?" Harper said in astonishment, watching Lucille pull on a washed-out blue sweater as she leaned her weight on the counter; "Color me surprised."

"I can still reach you with this," Lucille said casually, waving her cane threateningly in Harper's direction. The brunette held her hands up in mock-surrender, grinning cheekily; "Now then, when you finish with the last crate you can go ahead and lock up for the night. Make sure you leave the authenticity forms in my office. I'll go over those tomorrow."

"Sure thing," Harper said, retrieving Lucille's purse for her and trailing after her to her car; "Drive safe Lucille."

"Yeah, yeah. Try taking your own advice kid."

Her jaw dropped at Lucille's words; "Oh my gosh Lucille! How many times have I told you that he cut me off, not the other way around."

"Several. Each time you do so I'm less inclined to believe it."

Harper snorted in disbelief; "Cheeky old bat." She was treated with the rare sight of Lucille smiling before she climbed into her station wagon. Harper made sure she was safely out of sight before heading back in the shop.

Making her way to the back once more she grabbed her jacket and her iPod. Pulling her gray hoodie on and tucking her ear buds in she finally got to work on the last crate.

Sorting through the small boxes of jewelry and pins meticulously Harper made sure to document everything correctly (her OCD a good thing in this situation) before something caught her eye. It was a small black ring box, nestled in the corner under a few stray packing peanuts. She eyed it in confusion before looking at the inventory slip. There were only supposed to be twenty items in the box and yet she had one extra. She went over the list several more times but came up with twenty-one nonetheless.

"Weird," she muttered, picking it up and unwinding the bubble wrap from it, opening the small box. Her eyes widened upon seeing the ring within it. Sitting in the red velvet interior was a silver ring that shone almost white in the lighting. Upon further inspection she realized it was almost as though someone had literally woven tiny red gems into the metalwork which seemed to resemble vines. It bore no stone which led her to believe it wasn't a wedding ring though perhaps an engagement ring.

"Well, whatever it is it's gorgeous," she breathed, letting it rest in her palm and against her better judgment slipped it on her right ring finger. It astonished her that it seemed to fit perfectly, the delicate gems glittering in the light.

She heard the front door chime (nearly giving her a heart attack), alerting her someone had entered the store. A quick glance at her iPod told her it was well past closing time as she shoved herself to her feet and headed up front when she heard a few people speaking. Stowing her iPod in her back pocket Harper rounded the corner only to find a gun shoved in her face. Her breath lodged in her throat, eyes wide and body frozen in fear.

"Hey, what should we do with her?" The man holding her life in his hands asked over his shoulder, bright green eyes crinkling at the corners beneath his balaclava. Her gaze shot fearfully to the taller male picking up the Rembrandt hanging behind the register, examining it before turning to look at her. He seemed to give her a quick once-over before turning his attention back to the priceless painting in his hands.

"Lock her in the back store room, there's no need to kill her." He said smoothly, running his fingers over the frame that housed the canvas lovingly.

She was unable to keep from whimpering in fear when the thief before her grabbed her by the arm, bodily dragging her to the back and shoving her in the store room. Harper barely caught herself on the edge of the table, regaining her balance before feeling him grab her hand.

"That's a pretty ring you've got there," he cooed, holding it to eyelevel and pulling at it only it wouldn't come off her finger. Her pulse racked up a few notches, tasting sour bile on the back of her tongue as his eyes narrowed.

"L-l-let me t-try," she stammered as he released her. Harper dropped her hands, feeling for the crowbar on the table behind her and slammed it forward into his head.

"Fuck!" He cried in pain as blood gushed from his nose like a leaky faucet. She sidestepped him, racing for the back exit only to see stars burst in her line of vision in bright myriads of color when something hit the back of her head. She fell limply to the floor, clutching her head in agony as tears fell from her bloodshot eyes, pitiful sobs escaping her lips.

She could just barely make out the visage of the man standing over her, raising the barrel of his pistol to her forehead, hearing the crowbar she was just clocked with fall to the ground beside her with an ominous ting; "Don't matter. I'll pry it from your corpse."

Harper swallowed tightly; "Oh shit-."

Famous last words? Not exactly, but they were Harper's as red burst across her vision before fading to black.

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To be continued…


	2. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or anything associated with the series. I only own my OC and make no profit writing this.

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Chapter One

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She was surrounded by darkness.

Harper felt her body rise, weightless and airy, sailing upwards towards a destination she couldn't see.

Not darkness there though. Light; blinding, solid, burning. But she couldn't see anything else. She squinted, trying to focus, to pick out anything nearby she may recognize. Something to give her bearing, to tell her where she was and why the hell she felt she was walking on air. Harper's body suddenly pitched forward towards the light and into empty space. The bottom dropped out of her stomach at the freefalling sensation before she was surrounded by darkness once more.

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A cool breeze lifted sweaty bangs back from the unconscious woman's face, causing her to stir slightly as they rested against her flushed cheeks. She was roused from her slumber, fingertips pressing into the soft ground beneath her, feeling it give way. The smell of grass and wildflowers filled her nose, she could hear running water to her left and birdsong ringing clearly in the air.

Slowly, her eyes opened to narrow slits of cyan, gazing into the canopy of branches and leaves overhead. Everything appeared clearer and in focus as though a haze had been lifted from her eyes though when she reached up to her face she noticed her glasses were no longer perched on her nose.

"Better than Lasik," Harper's voice fell from her lips sounding sweetly like the birds singing overhead, nothing like her usual 'sensual alto' her choir teacher had dubbed it back in high school. It startled her as she looked upwards once more; "Is this heaven?" It certainly seemed like it; everything was bright and green and beautiful.

She raised a hand to her forehead, brushing her bangs from her face before realizing her hair seemed much longer than she remembered. It had originally brushed her shoulders but now it seemed to reach the middle of her chest.

Speaking of which…

Harper pulled the collar of her hoodie from her neck, peering down the front of her shirt before cursing aloud; "Where are my boobs?!"

In hindsight she would come to realize the absence of her generous C-Cup chest should have been the least of her worries at the moment but as it were…

"Verya? Verya, where are you child?" She heard a feminine voice carry through the trees, sounding irritated. The name struck a chord with Harper, sounding remarkably familiar and after a few minutes of racking her brain she realized why it sounded as such.

A while ago, when the Lord of the Rings films were released, Harper was among the many fangirls of the movies. She researched it, wrote terrible fanfiction about falling into Middle Earth and subsequently falling in love with Legolas, and if she was correct 'Verya' was the (immensely) rough translation of her name into elvish.

…

But why-?

"There you are, silly girl. I was wondering where you had gone." Harper looked up startled into gorgeous sky-blue eyes belonging to the woman in front of her. Silver hair was neatly plaited in tiny braids gathered into a side ponytail as she gave Harper a sort of affectionate, motherly look.

Had Harper been in any condition to make astute observations at the time she would have noticed that the woman also had pointed ears before they were covered by her braids once more.

"Come child, you mustn't wander too far from the others. It isn't safe." She held out her hand, bidding for the young woman to take it. Harper did so hesitantly, being pulled gently to her feet. The woman was practically glowing and she felt at peace in the older woman's presence. An angel, perhaps?

"What are you wearing Verya? What was wrong with the dress you had on? We haven't time to play dress-up, pen tithen." Before Harper had a chance to answer the angel shook her head; "Never mind that, we must hurry with all haste to Im-." The woman spun around and it was only then that Harper noticed the sword hanging from her left hip. Her head cocked to the side as though she were listening for something and after a moment Harper heard what sounded like footsteps and smelt something akin to rotten carrion on the wind.

"Yrch!" The woman said suddenly, startling Harper before sweeping the brunette into her arms, taking off through the forest. All she could do was hang on for dear life, arms tightening around the strange female's neck. She seemed to weigh nothing to the female who practically flew across the ground, soft brown boots making little to no impression in the grass underfoot.

"We must get you to the borders of Rivendell. Once we cross the Ford they will no longer be able to pursue us."

"R-Rivendell?" Harper echoed, unsure if she had heard correctly.

"Yes Verya. Lord Elrond is awaiting our arrival."

"Elrond?!"

"Lord Elrond, little one." She gently stressed the 'lord' part but Harper was too focused on the 'Elrond' half of that title to give a damn about the 'lord' honorific at the moment.

Rivendell. Elrond. Yrch.

…

But…that was impossible.

Right…?

Things like this only happened in fanfiction, not in Real Life.

'_Well, I was just killed, maybe this is my afterlife or something_.' Harper ducked her head against the woman's shoulder just as an arrow whistled through the air directly above her; '_This hereafter sucks, seriously_.'

After a moment Harper's mystery savior slowed to a stop, placing her on the ground and kneeling before her; "The Ford of the Bruinen is just ahead. I will keep them at bay long enough for you to escape Verya."

"A-aren't you coming with me?" Harper stammered, hearing the 'Yrch' getting closer. It sounded like a nice-sized group and she didn't think Supergirl would be able to take them on by herself. Not that Harper would be of any help, she apparently only came up to Supergirl's waist for some reason…

"I will be right behind you."

"Liar." She found herself saying before she could stop though the 'Warrior Princess' simply smiled.

"You doubt my skills young one?" She asked teasingly, running her hands back through Harper's hair almost lovingly and enfolding her in a warm hug; "I am one of Lady Galadriel's handmaidens, I will not be bested by a few Yrch."

"I hope not." So Supergirl was an elf then? Made sense, she supposed. "What's your name?" The she-elf looked at her like she was a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

"Why, you know who I am, Verya."

"No, I really don't but that's okay. I guess I should go before-" Harper bit her tongue, silencing the last half of her statement; '_Before I die again in some illustrious, pain-filled manner…'_

"Go now and may your path be forever green and golden. Alámenë, pen tithen."

Harper wasn't sure what 'alámenë' or 'pen tithen' meant as her elvish was rather rusty, having not written 'Lord of the Rings' fanfiction since she was sixteen, but had a sickening suspicion it meant she would never see her temporary bodyguard she-elf again…

"Noro!" Harper jumped at the command, taking off towards where the she-elf was pointing.

Harper never considered herself to be in excellent physical shape. Yes she worked out if only to be able to eat what she wanted without feeling guilty but she wasn't exactly an athlete nor was she a runner. However she seemed to close the distance between her and the Ford in a matter of moments, only stumbling a few times too. The sound of steel clashing against steel and a loud battle cry echoing behind her prompted her to shift her ass into high gear, racing towards the Bruinen.

The crossing was only several meters away thankfully and she breathed a sigh of utter relief. She stumbled across the smooth stones in the shallow part of the river and past the borders, into the relative safety that was Rivendell. She didn't stop running though, able to easily hear people moving about in the woods around her and came to the assumption that if the wardens of the realm had wanted to kill her they would have done so already. Better yet, Elrond would have washed her away the moment she floundered pitifully through the river.

She scampered over the well-worn path, water squelching obnoxiously in her socks (because apparently one loses their shoes during dimensional travel to Middle Earth or some shit like that). She had never remembered running so fast in her life, it was as though her feet didn't touch the ground when she was moving, like she was flying rather than running.

Harper stumbled onto a warm bed of grass, nearly falling before collapsing on the edge of a fountain in a small courtyard surrounded by flowering shrubs. After catching her breath she warily raised her eyes to the beauty that was Imladris.

"Sorry Peter but you've got nothing on this place," she breathed, jaw slackening in shock as she looked around. Harper began rubbing out the cramps in her calves, licking her dry lips a few times in an attempt to moisten them. Cupping her hands, she dipped them in the cool water of the fountain, bringing them to her lips and taking a few short swallows to slake her thirst before something caught her eye.

She blinked once, twice, peering at her reflection before her breath started coming in short panicky gasps. Harper reached upwards, fingers trembling almost violently as she touched the tips of her ears, finding them delicately pointed.

Her screams were heard all the way to Mordor.

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Elvish Translations:

Noro: run

Alámenë: go with my blessings

Pen tithen: little one


	3. Chapter Two

A/N: So maybe I'm just PMS-ing and my hormones are all wonky but this chapter made me kinda weepy *laughs*, the angst has already begun and we're only three parts in, I think that's a record for me. Sorry for the wait for this one. Anyways, huge thanks to everyone who's favorite-d/followed/reviewed this so far.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or the cover image. I only own my OC and make no monies writing this.

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Chapter Two: In which our 'Fearless Protagonist' discovers Hugo Weaving has got nothing on Lord Elrond… (Alternate Title: Harper's Fangirl Moment)

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"Why has she not yet awakened?"

"Patience my friend, she and Lady Huoriel traveled quite a way in a short amount of time. It is quite a trek for someone so young to make, even if they are of Eldar blood. Not to mention the earlier ambush."

"Her eyes are closed as she rests, it worries me."

"She is in very capable hands Lindir, you know that."

A sigh; "I know Erestor, but I cannot help but worry, especially with the terrible state Lord Glorfindel found Lady Huoriel in-."

Harper's eyes shifted behind her heavy eyelids before opening to narrow slits, trying to listen in on the hushed conversation taking place outside the room she was currently in.

"It is considered rude to eavesdrop, _pen tithen_." Harper was both surprised and pleased she didn't yelp in alarm, instead turning her head slowly to the side as her eyes widened comically.

The elf at her bedside had sable-colored hair reaching the middle of his back with a plain silver circlet sitting atop his head. His eyes were like liquid silver, warm and wise and a gentle smile graced his lips. He was wearing a dark tunic and leggings with lightweight leather armor overtop. He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man, er, elf she had ever laid eyes on.

Hell, he was the first male elf she had laid eyes on period.

_Ohh, baby. Ohh, honey, Harper thinks you are gorgeous_.

She swallowed tightly, unsticking her tongue from the roof of her mouth long enough to be able to ask;

"Who are you?" She winced inwardly as her voice cracked slightly, seeing him reach for a small glass on the table, holding it out to her. Taking it graciously, Harper downed the water in a few swallows before focusing her gaze on the elf once more, trying to decide if it was either Elrohir or Elladan.

"My name is Elrond-."

"What?!" She nearly shrieked, hearing the conversation in the hall come to an abrupt halt.

"My name is Elrond-."

"No, I-I got that but you're just-," she squirmed under his gaze, tugging the thin blanket covering her up to her chin as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks; "W-well-uh…you're…" He arched a brow elegantly, tilting his head to the side in inquisition; "You're pretty hot, uh…I mean, lovely…m-my lord." The corners of his lips upturned just enough to indicate he was amused by her rather hastily given compliment.

When Harper finished wallowing in self-pity and mentally slapping herself into next month after a moment she heard him speak; "You are very kind, _pen tithen_, if not a bit forthright."

"I get that a lot," she said, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her lips before his faded and he became stony-faced.

"Verya, pray tell, where did you get that ring?"

Talk about a complete about-face.

"What ring-?" Harper glanced down, seeing the silver-white ring on her finger, tiny rubies interwoven into the metalwork; "O-oh, th-that r-r-ring-."

"Yes, that ring." She kept her eyes downcast on her hand, unable (and quite unwilling) to look the Lord of Imladris, Keeper of Vilya, aka one of the most powerful beings in Middle Earth, in the eyes. Her throat began to tighten almost painfully in that obnoxious way that told her she was less than moments away from crying.

"I found it."

"I gathered as much. Where did you find it?"

Harper fidgeted, fussing with the band and sliding it halfway off her finger before slipping it back on; "At Granny Lucille's shop."

"Mm, and what happened after you found it?"

"I died." Harper's answer was blunt, surprising her even as her sensitive hearing picking up the faintest hitch in his breathing at her grim words.

Silver met cyan as both elves stared at each other for a long while; "That is no mere trinket you carry Harper, daughter of Adam."

"I figured as much."

"Strange that Mandos would allow your Fëa…," he trailed off, tilting his head to the side and studying her for a few minutes; "Never mind that now. How are you feeling?"

"Tired, kinda waterlogged," she said wearily, raising a hand and brushing her damp bangs from her eyes.

"To be expected. You gave my minstrel quite a fright when he found you unconscious in the fountain."

Silence greeted the pair of elves for several minutes as she tried to get her head around what he had just said.

"I-I was-."

"Unresponsive in the courtyard fountain. Lindir was quite worried about you."

Harper buried her face in her hands with an exasperated groan, feeling her cheeks burning hot against her palms. She heard him chuckle, felt him ruffle her hair gently; "Do not trouble yourself with such things. Are you hungry?"

"A-a little bit."

"Good. I will send someone in to draw you a bath. Are you feeling up to dining with the others?"

"Others?"

"Perhaps it would be for the best if you got settled in first," he stood from her bedside fluidly.

"I don't understand-," she managed weakly.

"Patience. All in due time Verya."

The brunette fidgeted once more, looking up at him shyly; "I'd prefer to be called Harper, it's um-the um-," she wracked her brain for what Tolkien had named the language of Middle Earth; "The-the Western translation of my name. Has a nicer ring to it I think."

"Do you mean Westron?"

Harper only barely managed to refrain from face-palming at her Middle Earth faux pas; "Y-yeah, I mean, yes. Didn't I say Westron?'

"No, you said Western-."

A silly laugh escaped her lips; "Are you sure?"

"Yes." He eyed her warily though he said nothing more on the subject, thank goodness; "Alassë will be in shortly to draw you a bath. Lindir also wishes to speak with you if you are up for it."

"Of course, I'd like to thank the guy that saved my as-backside," she was quick to correct herself when she noticed the sour look Elrond was giving her; "I didn't say it."

"You were thinking it."

"What, you're a mind reader or something?"

"So you admit to it then?"

"I-wait, what?" Harper blinked before scowling slightly; "That's not fair, don't put words in my mouth."

"Rest now Harper," she barely managed to refrain from going googly-eyed at the way her name smoothly rolled off his tongue; "We will speak more in the morning after you have had a good night's sleep. I am sure you have a lot of questions you wish to have answered."

"Will you have the answers I need?" She found herself asking before she could stop.

He looked uncomfortable at her inquisition; "I will give you as much information as I possess but for now, I must take my leave. I have some dwarves I must entertain."

Harper could nearly hear the record-needle scratch that often accompanied a 'say what?' moment in cinema echoing in her head.

"Dwarves?!" He nodded once in affirmation; "What year is this again?"

"It is Year 2941 of the Third Age."

'_OHMAHGOD_!' She inwardly squealed to herself when she realized what year she was in. Elrond gave her a worried look at the goofy grin gracing her lips before exiting her room. Harper heard his footsteps beat a hasty retreat down the hallway before she flung herself out of bed and to the mirror standing in the corner of the room.

Her jaw dropped clear to her knees when she saw her reflection and it was all she could do to keep from passing out again. Sure enough she had pointed leaf-shaped ears like an elf's, her eyes were a lighter blue than she remembered them being, glinting green when the light caught them just the right way. Her hair was a glossy chestnut color and stick straight much to her dismay. She was also at least two feet shorter than she remembered being…

"I look like a ten year old," she groaned, running her hands through her hair in agitation and trying to wrap her head around the situation; "So I was reborn…into an elvish body…and I regressed because I was 23 when I died and…," she trailed off, pursuing her lips and thinking hard; "Elves don't reach their majority till they're like, a hundred? It's like Benjamin Button, except…not."

Harper turned to look at her reflection from every angle, pouting as she rested her hands on her nonexistent butt; "I miss my curves." Her gaze slid down to her flatter than a board chest, plucking at the front of her now-oversized shirt with a depressed sigh; "This is so not cool."

"_Pen tithen_?" Harper spun around, eyes wide with fear as she found herself looking at another male elf; "Forgive me for startling you. I am Lindir," his head dipped slightly her way in greeting; "Are you feeling better, Verya?"

"Harper, please, if you don't mind," she corrected him; "And I am feeling a lot better, thanks."

"It is wonderful to see you up and about Harper," he said with a kind smile as she turned her attention back to her reflection.

"It's good to be up and about," she agreed before the niggling thought she had had at the back of her mind throughout her conversation with Elrond finally pushed its way to the front; "Um, you wouldn't happen to know what happened to the she-elf I was…travelling with? Lady Huoriel?"

Harper knew she practically butchered the elf's name but Lindir understood her well enough to reply with a rather grave; "She is with Lords Elladan and Elrohir in the Halls of Healing."

The newly reborn elf froze in place at those words, turning from prodding at her pointed ears to face Lindir; "Is she…okay…?"

The minstrel said nothing, not meeting her gaze as the bottom dropped out of Harper's stomach; "Lady Huoriel was grievously injured in battle. The most that can be done for her now is to keep her comfortable until Mandos takes her."

"She-she's dying?"

"Aye."

Her elation of finding out she was in Middle Earth as an elf nonetheless abruptly vanished. For a brief moment she felt absolutely nothing before the guilt hit her so hard it nearly sent her to her knees with its intensity. It was her fault the she-elf was injured, wasn't it? The thought made tears spring to her eyes as she covered her mouth with a shaky hand, tasting sour bile on the back of her tongue.

"Ai, _pen tithen_, do not weep," a choked-back sob escaped her lips before she found herself enfolded in a warm, tight hug courtesy of the minstrel. Harper clung to him, burying her face in his neck shamelessly as hot tears coursed down her cheeks.

"It-it's my f-f-fault," she stammered between sobs.

"Shh, _aewithen_," he said softly; "Do not think such awful things. It is not your fault." Harper simply cried harder as Lindir sighed quietly before beginning to sing;

"_Uich gwennen na 'wanath ah na dhín. An uich gwennen na ringyrn ambar hen. Boe naid bain gwannathar, Boe cuil ban firitha. Boe naer gwannathach_…," Harper didn't hear the rest as her eyelids grew heavy, allowing the warm, dulcet tone of his voice to lull her to sleep in his arms.

* * *

Poor Harper. I enjoyed writing the little banter between her and Elrond. I would figure that elves would be different from what PJ portrayed them as, more stunning I suppose if that makes sense. A bit of humor and mistaken identity at Elrond's expense. Anyways, elvish translation guide;

_Pen tithen_: affectionately 'little one'

_Uich gwennen na 'wanath ah na dhín. An uich gwennen na ringyrn ambar hen. Boe naid bain gwannathar, Boe cuil ban firitha. Boe naer gwannathach_: (Breath of Life): 'You are not bound to loss and silence. For you are not bound to the circles of this world. All things must pass away. All life is doomed to fade. Sorrowing you must go…'

_Aewithen_: affectionately 'little bird'

_Fëa_: spirit

It made sense to put a song in there since Lindir is a minstrel after all. Sorry for any typos/grammar booboos I didn't catch when I proofread this. Hope you guys enjoyed. See ya' next time.


	4. Chapter Three

A/N: See note at bottom.

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Disclaimer: I own nothing, just Harper and my grammar booboos.

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Chapter Three: Many Meetings

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It took an embarrassing amount of effort for Harper to open her eyes which seemed to have nearly swollen shut from all the crying she had done. She rubbed them tiredly, wincing as she did so and finally opened them fully, staring up at the ceiling overhead. Her body felt leaden, moves sluggish as she dragged herself out of bed and to the full-length mirror that sat beside the wardrobe.

Pointy ears? Check.

Perfect skin? Check (she noted with some elation).

Nonexistent boobs? Check (she noted with much disdain).

"Ugh," she groaned, scrubbing her hands over her face and lacing her fingers behind her neck; "You look like shit, girl," she told her reflection bluntly before turning away from the looking glass and beginning to pace the length of her room. Harper's head snapped up however upon hearing the door begin to open as Lindir stood at the threshold with a small bundle in his arms.

A smile broke out across his face upon seeing her; "Ah, it is good to see you up and about _aewithen_."

Harper cocked a brow; "_Aewithen_?"

It was the minstrel's turn to look confused; "Do you…you speak Sindarin do you not?"

"Not really." They stared at each other for a few moments.

It was Lindir who broke the awkward silence that had befell them; "It means 'little bird'."

"Oh. That's pretty cool."

"Cool?"

"Never mind," she waved her hand dismissively; "Is there any chance I could get something to eat sir?"

"O-of course," he chuckled; "That was actually the reason I came by. The seamstress will be in later to take your measurements. I am afraid these are the only clothes we have that will fit you right now and they will be a bit big on you." He handed her a small stack of folded clothes so she could change out of her torn jeans and hoodie. Harper ducked behind the changing screen in the corner of her room, examining the garments he had given her and donning them with a shrug.

"Lord Elrond would have stopped by himself but he is busy speaking with our guests."

"Guests?" Harper decided to play the 'clueless' card but knew full-well who he was talking about, stepping out from behind the changing screen. The pants were a bit too long but she remedied that by rolling them up a few times and the sleeves on her shirt brushed passed her fingertips as well but everything fit for the most part. All the important bits were covered at least.

"Aye, Thorin and his Company." Lindir began fussing with the collar to her undershirt, making sure her waistcoat was buttoned properly.

"Thorin?"

"He is a dwarf prince of Erebor."

"I've never seen a dwarf before," Harper commented casually, glancing up at him innocently; "Can I meet them?"

Lindir pursed his lips in thought; "I do not think that is such a good idea. They are recuperating from their journey and I have heard it was quite perilous."

"I won't bother them, honest, I just want to say hi," the minstrel fidgeted as though torn between his options.

"Harper, you must understand-." As he continued speaking about the meeting being diplomatic in nature and no place for an elfling Harper unashamedly pulled out the puppy dog eyes, jutting her lower lip out in a pout.

Apparently the elvish version was very, _very _effective.

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"Stay close, Verya."

"Mm-kay!" She said, doing the exact opposite as she ran ahead of the minstrel down the hall to the balcony that extended over the small party of dwarves. Her smile faltered however when she realized they looked absolutely nothing like Peter Jackson's rendition of them and rather Tolkien's own vision.

'_Well, damn,' _she thought with a dismayed frown, draping her arms over the railing as she watched them interact merrily. Her memory of The Hobbit was very hazy, having read it back when she was in Middle School years before. She couldn't quite recall who was who as they all wore different colored cloaks and she spotted dwarves with yellow, white, and even blue beards among the group.

Pursing her lips she rested her chin on her forearms, elation evaporating almost immediately; "I told you to not run off, pen neth." She offered Lindir a halfhearted shrug by way of apology, pushing herself to a standing position.

"They aren't…exactly how I pictured they would be."

Lindir arched a brow, eerily reminding her of Elrond for a moment; "And how was it that you presumed they would be?"

_Oh, I don't know. Like Richard Armitage and Aidan Turner perhaps? Certainly not…_

…

_This… _

Harper shrugged once more; "I thought they'd be shorter."

He surprised her by laughing. It was such a wonderful sound that she couldn't keep from smiling in response; "Ah, how I have missed having children running around."

"I'm not a child!" She found herself saying before she could stop, resting her hands on her hips; "I'll have you know I am 23 years old in fact."

The blank stare he gave her told her he was unimpressed by her posturing; "You are still a child, Verya," Lindir cringed at the sour look she sent his way; "B-but a very mature one at that." It was Harper's turn to laugh at that and pretty soon both elfling and minstrel had dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"I feel we are missing out on something, Elladan."

"I think you are right." Harper glanced up at the sound of identical voices, whirling around as she was met with the sight of what _had_ to be Elrond's sons. The one on the left cocked his head to the side, nudging his mirror image and nodding to her.

"You must be Verya, the elfling our father spoke of. I am Elladan, this is my younger brother Elrohir-."

"Younger by barely ten minutes. Must you always introduce us as such?" Elrohir sighed with a shake of his head. Harper's lips twitched into a slight grin at their playful banter before her eyes landed on Elrohir's bloodstained tunic. Elladan followed her line of sight, frowning a bit and nudging Elrohir once more.

"That's from the she-elf, isn't it?" They glanced questioningly at each other; "Huoriel?"

"Ah, Lady Huoriel," Elrohir said grimly; "She is…resting." He was choosing his words carefully, not wanting to upset her.

"I'm not a child," she sighed, raising her eyes to meet his; "Tell me the truth, please."

She could see Lindir frantically shaking his head 'no' out the corner of her eye though she waited patiently to hear what he had to say.

Elrohir fidgeted under her gaze before relenting with a sigh; "Huoriel is not well. Had Lord Glorfindel not come across her when he did she would have perished on the banks of the Bruinen."

Harper sucked in a startled breath at those words but he plowed on; "She is suffering from multiple lacerations and fractures, the most notable being her right thigh. The bone is shattered, probably a hit from a mace or flail if I had to guess and the shards punctured the vein in her leg causing massive bleeding. Even if she lived through the night she would never walk again but her chances are very slim. There is a limit to even our father's power. She will likely perish before the sun rises tomorrow."

"Can I see her?" Harper hated how feeble her voice sounded. Granted she didn't even really know the elf-warrior she wanted to at least thank her for giving her another chance at life at the unfortunate expense of her own.

"I-," Elrohir glanced over her head at Lindir as though asking for permission before looking down at her; "I do not think that is a good idea."

"But I-."

"There you are Harper," the quartet turned as one to face Lord Elrond coming down the hallway; "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she shrugged, blushing when her stomach growled; "And hungry." Elrond said something in elvish to the Twins and Lindir that she didn't understand as she stood there looking between the elves.

It was like one of those awkward 'not now sweetheart, the grownups are talking' moments she experienced all too often as a child.

The Twins suddenly bid her goodbye after a moment and Lindir informed her that he had some things to take care of but he would check on her later before they left her alone in the hall with Elrond. He bid her to follow him as she did so, trailing several feet behind him quietly.

"You know how to clear a room, I'll give you that," Harper commented upon reaching a set of double doors. Elrond ushered her inside, the scent of freshly-baked bread wafting into her nose and making her stomach growl once more.

"Lindir seems to have taken a liking to you," Elrond commented offhandedly, glancing down at her; "What would you say to being taken as his ward?"

Harper was about to answer before hearing another musical voice pipe up;

"Lord Elrond," she glanced over as a she-elf curtsied politely before the pair with a tray in her hands; "I was just about to visit young Verya-."

"There is no need for that, she is right here," Elrond gestured to the juvenile at his side.

"Well met, little one. My name is Thandiel. I prepared a meal for you, I hope you enjoy." She said in one breath, a bright smile upon her lips.

"Um, th-thank you," Harper stammered, taking a seat at the table as Elrond sat across from her.

"Would you like some tea, my lord?"

"That will not be necessary but thank you."

Thandiel fidgeted, twisting her fingers into her apron before finally tearing her eyes from Harper, looking at her lord and blurting; "She looks a lot like him. Do you think it possible that she-?"

"That will be all," Harper looked up startled from her plate at how irritated Elrond sounded, seeing the sour look he gave the auburn-haired elf.

Thandiel bowed her head submissively; "Forgive me. I shall leave you in peace then." She turned, heading back to the kitchens Harper assumed before she turned her cyan gaze on Elrond.

"What did she mean I 'look like him'? Who's him?"

"Do not concern yourself with such things Harper," he said in a deceptively calm voice, that she recognized as the 'this conversation is now over and we will never speak of it again' voice.

"O-okay," she said weakly, unabashedly delving into her meal.

Harper was focused solely on stuffing her gorge as politely as she could that she didn't hear the door open nor did she hear footsteps pad softly across the stone floor; "Good afternoon, Lord Elrond."

She swallowed thickly, glancing over her shoulder at the sound of a younger man's voice. Her eyes landed on a boy who looked no older than she (at the moment at least), though maybe a bit taller. His dark hair fell to his jawline in loose waves, framing his gray eyes and sharp features.

"Ah yes. Harper, I want you to meet someone very dear to me. This is Estel-."

It was in that moment that she began choking, wheezing for air before feeling a solid thump on her back that helped dislodge the wayward piece of bread from her windpipe. She washed it down with a quick swallow of milk, coughing weakly; "Estel-?!"

_Little Aragorn?! _

"Aye, it is a pleasure to meet you Harper," he said politely, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

_Arwen's betrothed? _

"Harper? Harper, are you well?"

_Future King of Men? _

"My lord-?" Aragorn glanced over at Elrond worriedly as the color drained rapidly from her face and she swayed unsteadily on the bench.

"Oh, Sweet Jesus." Those spectacular gray eyes of his were the last thing Harper saw before her own rolled back in her head and she lost consciousness.

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Don't worry, Harper won't be passing out anymore when she meets new people. I just think it was something different since nobody really writes about meeting Little Aragorn and I think it works rather well considering he's 10 or 11 at this point in time and Harper has the body of a 10/11 year old. I see a friendship in the making~! I wanted her to meet Glorfindel this chapter but it seemed like a good place to cut it off. He'll make an appearance next chapter though, I promise. That is, if any of you guys are still reading this. A bit thanks to those who have reviewed and favorite-d this story. I'm sorry for being gone so long, I already have the ending written to this, it's just the matter of getting there I'm struggling with considering the Fellowship is about 80 years from occurring and that's when things really get going =) but don't worry, you won't be sitting through twenty chapters of Harper growing up again. I don't have the patience for that and I'm assuming you guys don't either. Maybe a time skip here and there for plots (and author's sanity) sake but nothing too extreme. Okay, rant over. Thanks for sticking with me guys.


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